


(Sub)Text

by PFDiva



Category: Follow the Leader (Podcast)
Genre: Divine|Mundane Arc, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, mean flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PFDiva/pseuds/PFDiva
Summary: Sometimes, Garion just needs somebody to be nice to him.





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There was approximately one bar where werewolves and vampires could be themselves and Garion was there. At the bar. Drinking blood. Like you do.

Garion had long reached the age where dancing wasn’t nearly so interesting as watching the dancers. So that’s what he did. There were new young things baring claws and teeth at each other, old enemies revisiting reasons to hate each other on the dancefloor, and even people who actually wanted to dance and enjoy themselves. It was all very boring, if he were honest with himself.

There was one guy, though. Older-looking. Tall and heavily-built. Not a new young thing, but definitely not a local, either. New in town, Garion guessed. It happened.

Now, Garion would like to believe he couldn’t figure out why this guy had caught his attention, but he had a type and no shame about it. And as he watched the guy dancing, he watched the guy noticing him, too. The slow curl of his smile, the thrust of his hips as he moved. His ugly as sin pleather pants and matching vest. No shirt underneath. Of course. Garion turned away when the pleather offended his sense of good fashion too much, idly shaking his head at himself. It was getting late. He should go home.

The guy came over to the bar, taking a seat next to Garion like he’d been invited and smiling a wide, friendly-looking smile.

“Hey.”

“Uhh...hi?” Garion was going for dismissive, but it was harder when he was actually interested. He sounded more hesitant than disdainful. It was...honestly the worst.

“I’m Dorian,” the guy said, leaning in flirtatiously. He smelled of werewolf and sweat and vividly mortal. Garion’s mouth watered just a little. He should get something to drink and  _then_ leave. Instead, Garion mocked the man, because this flirtation would not do.

“Like the guy in the book with the picture?”

Rather than getting offended, this Dorian laughed.

“The very one and the same. My mom was a huge fan.”

Oh no. He was hot.

On top of being hot, he leaned in to ask, “And what should I be calling _you_?”

“Bold of you to assume you can call me _anything_ ,” Garion scoffed. Dorian laughed again, shifting closer still in order to speak into Garion’s ear. “My mouth will be too busy doing other things?”

“Buy me a drink first at least!”

Garion was offended now, and he planted a hand in the middle of Dorian’s pleather-clad chest, pushing him back enough to breathe. Dorian grinned at Garion from an arm’s-length away.

“What are you drinking, then?”

“ _Blood._ ”

Dorian’s eyes lit up with interest. “You’re a vampire, then?”

“And not interested in chasers.”

“It’s just good to know you’re older than you look,” Dorian replied, his tone too innocent for his smile. When Garion scowled his disapproval, Dorian turned and signaled the bartender.

The bartender knew Garion, so his drink showed up in a wineglass. Dorian’s came in a tumbler and it was something neon blue and fruity-smelling. Garion disdainfully sipped his blood at Dorian.

“So,” Dorian declared, “Do I get to know your name now?”

“I didn’t say that,” Garion sneered. Dorian solemnly nodded, then silently toasted Garion and slid off his stool.

“That’s a shame, because now I have to leave you alone.”

It was a question, and Garion cut his eyes sideways at the man before heaving a long-suffering sigh.

“I didn’t say _that_ , either.”

Dorian’s grin slowly returned as he crowded Garion against the bar, “So, what _did_  you say?”

Garion planted his hand against Dorian’s chest.  He was gratified to feel Dorian shifting back a little, like he thought Garion was pushing him away again. Garion combed his fingers through Dorian’s more than ample chest hair to disabuse him of that particular notion.

“What I _said_ is that I’m not some two-bit 3 year-old vampire that’ll fall all over himself for a little bad flirting.”

“What about good flirting?”

“When you do some, I’ll let you know.”

“Ouch, I am hurt!”

Garion smirked over his glass at Dorian, who slid back onto his stool, his knees companionably knocking into Garion’s.

“My name’s Garion,” he finally conceded, because he did like this guy.

“Garion,” Dorian repeated, like he was tasting how the name felt in his mouth. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes, it is.” Another bark of laughter accompanied Garion’s next sip. By the time Garion had finished his drink, he’d shredded Dorian’s vest to sink his fingers into Dorian’s chest hair.

Dorian didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, Dorian didn't seem to mind anything Garion wanted to do with him the rest of the night and into the next day.

Garion promised himself he'd make Dorian new clothing to replace the old.

Who was to say if it was his fault the old got destroyed, after all?

Not that Dorian had much use for it after they left the bar anyway.


End file.
